


I'm begging for you (to take my hand)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Prompt Fill, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 06:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30034761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: A collection of sentence prompt fills, all of which are centered around James Potter and Hermione Granger. Tags specific to each piece will be listed in notes (ie. time travel; age difference; same age; marauders era, etc).1) “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”2) “I can’t have this argument with you again.” “But—” “No. I’m done.”3) "Stop moving and let me braid your hair."4) “I’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter
Comments: 92
Kudos: 241





	1. "Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags** : Marauders Era; Same Age
> 
>  **face claim** : [C A S T](https://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/promptfill)

Hermione was nose-deep in a Charms textbook when James Potter plopped himself down in a chair across from her with no warning. While she raised an eyebrow, she did not lift her eyes from the paragraph she was reading. “Can I help you?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Did you need directions?”

He paused. “Directions?”

“Well, seeing as I can count the amount of times I’ve seen you in the library on three fingers—” She turned a page. “—I assume you’ve wandered off course somehow and are looking for a guide back to whatever mischief you and yours are managing.”

“Ahh. You’ll be excited to know that I don’t need directions. I’ve fortuitously stumbled upon exactly where I need to be.”

She glanced up, only to find him grinning at her. “I thought we established clear rules and boundaries.”

“No declaring my intentions from the tops of any tables at a decibel that would make dogs cry. I remember.” He stacked his hands on his stomach and leaned his chair back. “You’ll notice I’m seated at the table, not on top of it, and I’ve kept an even pitch with our friendly banter.”

Drawing a deep breath, Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh. “There was about a month there where you seemed to have lent your attentions elsewhere. I suppose it’s my own fault for letting my guard down.”

“Twenty-six days,” he informed her. “I felt extreme planning was in order. I figured a particularly studious witch such as yourself might appreciate a more scholarly approach.”

“And your plan involved informing me that you had a plan?” Her brow furrowed. “Is this because I told you I don’t like surprises when you hid an engagement ring in my custard.”

“Had I known you would give MacDonald your custard and she would nearly die choking on it, I might’ve thought that one through a little more.”

“I’m not particularly fond of butterscotch.” Hermione laid her book down on the table. “Or getting engaged while still in school. Especially to a boy—”

“Man,” he corrected.

“—I’m not even dating.”

“Easily rectified,” he muttered under his breath.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “James, you’re very intelligent—”

He smirked. “I’ve been told.”

“—and equally arrogant—”

“For good reason.”

“—but you must know a lost cause when you see one.”

He hummed, mouth scrunched up stubbornly. “Can’t say that I do.”

“You were in love with Lily Evans for, what, four years?”

“I started fancying her third year.” He nodded. “Nothing came of it though.”

“Because she didn’t return your affections.”

“Because she thought I was an arrogant toerag and repeatedly rejected my advances for four years straight,” he admitted glibly.

“And if I were to tell you that she’s softened to you?” She stared at him searchingly. “That she noticed you’d grown up since last year and would likely accept if you asked her to Hogsmeade.”

James frowned, his brow furrowed. “I’d tell you that it was too bad.” He shrugged. “I’m an obnoxiously monogamous person, even if the object of my affection is woefully unappreciative of my imaginative proposals. Lily’s great, but I’ve moved on. We had a good run. Four years is nothing to scoff at. I’ll look back fondly on all the times I was loudly rejected for all to hear.”

“Didn’t you _just_ say you don’t give up?”

“I don’t.” He tilted the chair forward until it was back on even ground. “My feelings changed. It wasn’t so much a failure or a retreat or even a white flag of surrender as it was a natural ending. With a whimper rather than a bang.”

“Just like that? Four years of dedicated wooing and you’ve just moved on?” Hermione frowned. “Are you sure it isn’t the chase? After all, she did seem to start returning your affections and now your attention is lost.”

James shook his head. “Started over the summer, not when I returned to Hogwarts. Had no idea she was starting to like me back.”

“What happened over the summer?”

“I grew up.”

Hermione stared at him a beat. “Must’ve been a busy two months.”

James’ mouth twitched. “Do you know what I thought the first time I met you?”

“That a small family of birds could live happily in my hair?”

“I maintain that I was not the one that spelled your hair into a bird’s nest. I merely appreciated the magic that made it happen.” He grinned. “To be fair, it looked quite fetching on you.”

“You would say a potato sack looked fetching on me.”

“I would,” he admitted freely. “Anyway, that was not what I thought.”

“No?”

“No. I thought I’d never seen a sadder witch in my life.”

“Oh, that’s much better. I’m glad my resounding grief was such a huge draw.”

“I wanted to cheer you up,” he explained. “Nobody should ever look that desolate.”

Hermione’s mouth pinched. “I was grieving. I’m still grieving.”

“I know. But at the time, all I knew was that I wanted to make it better. So, I set myself a goal.”

“To be utterly obnoxious on a daily basis?”

“To make you smile or laugh as often as humanly possible. Admittedly, you tend to frown and scoff and rant quite a bit more than you smile or laugh. But I do enjoy a good challenge.” He smiled to himself. “And I remember the very first time I made you laugh like it was yesterday.”

“Given your track record, it might’ve been.”

“You squirted pumpkin juice out your nose, you were caught so off-guard. You nearly choked laughing. And I knew then and there that I was going to do whatever it took to make it happen again.”

“Preferably without the pumpkin juice,” she mused with a sigh. “It tends to sting the nose.”

“So, I have. And you haven’t made it easy, but I think I’ve done a pretty good job.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “The proposals weren’t a part of that. Mostly that was a habit. I used to propose to Lily because it made her turn red as a tomato. She was pretty when she was angry. Selfish, I know, to think more of what I found fetching rather than her personal comfort. It’ll sound stupid, but it wasn’t until I realized how uncomfortable you were when I did it to you that I caught on that maybe I was being an arse.”

“That long, huh?”

“You didn’t get pissed like she did. She tended to shout and attack and didn’t care a whit about whether people were laughing. You, on the other hand, shrunk. You didn’t want to be seen. That wasn’t my intention. For me, I like attention. I like when all eyes are on me. But you shy away from it. You hide yourself in books and studying, keep your head down, try not to catch anyone’s eye. Guess I ruined all that for you, forcing you into my spotlight.”

She eyed him a moment, struck a little by his insight. “It wasn’t particularly comfortable.”

“Sorry for that.” He shrugged. “Like I said, took me a while to realize I was being selfish.”

“And your sudden self-awareness can be credited to…?”

“Graduation is in two months.” He paused. “After that, who knows when we’ll see each other. You’re only kind of friends with Remus, so I don’t know that you’ll stay in touch with him. You hardly tolerate me, which means any owls I send could easily be ignored. So, that leaves me with two months to convince you that I’m worth taking a chance on. No overt displays of affection. Nothing that makes you uncomfortable. And no hidden engagement rings.”

“I appreciate not having to double check any future desserts, if nothing else.” Hermione fiddled with a quill laid out on her desk. “Not that I’m not flattered… I am, somewhat. But—”

He held a hand up to cut her off. “I know, I haven’t earned any trust over these last eight months. But I promise to be respectful of your rules and boundaries. I’ll be the perfect gentlemen. Walk you to class, carry your books, supply you with snacks in between study sessions. You tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t want a servant. I can carry my own books and I don’t need snacks—”

He made a grumbly noise of disagreement. “You missed supper and you frequently forget to eat lunch even in the Great Hall. If you’re reading, nothing else seems to penetrate that brilliant brain of yours.”

A flush filled her face. “All right, so I’ll set my wand to remind myself to eat at appropriate times. I don’t need—”

“Sometimes it’s nice just to have someone who cares,” he interrupted.

Hermione paused, mouth ajar. “I… What?”

“Let’s say in two months, nothing changes for you. I’m still the same obnoxious prat you’ve been putting up with since September. We go our separate ways and you never have to think of me again. At least you’ll get a couple months of no-strings attention and affection. And if something does shift and you realize that I’m serious, then all the better.”

“You spent twenty-six days coming up with a plan to ply me with snacks and carry my books?”

“I spent twenty-six days unlearning all the ways I used to woo witches so that I don’t make the same mistake twice. So, no fireworks, no sonnets, no filling your dorm room with flowers. I’ll start small. Books and snacks. And then I’ll figure out what you, personally and individually, _like_.”

Hermione shifted in her seat.

“Do we have a deal?”

She stared at him searchingly. “Why me?”

He frowned. “Why not you?”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Four years is not a drop in the bucket. So, what could have possibly changed so much over the summer that you returned with no interest in Lily but for some reason, decided to like me?”

He hummed. “You wrinkle your nose when you’re trying not to laugh at something.”

She blinked.

“You scrunch it up like you know you shouldn’t but you still find it funny. It’s cute.” He stared at the tabletop a moment. “And you treat Sirius like your irritating little brother. He acts like he hates it, but I think he likes feeling cared for. And you help Peter study. I’m pretty sure you don’t even like him, but that doesn’t stop you from helping him anyway. And you bring Remus chocolate, every full moon. You make up stories about buying too much or not liking dark chocolate, but you’ve always got a bar to help him take the edge off.”

Hermione swallowed tightly.

“You _care_. I can tell you try to keep your distance from us, but you still end up liking us anyway.”

“You’re terribly likeable,” she murmured.

James half-grinned. “We do have our moments.”

She stared at him thoughtfully. “So, you liked me because I was kind to your friends?”

“Because you’re kind in general. And pretty and wicked smart and utterly terrifying with a wand. Gets me hot under the collar when a witch can kick my arse.”

Hermione snorted.

“I know. I have a type. I’m not ashamed to say it. But things are going to be different this time around.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I see you.” He stared at her seriously. “Not a version of you that I want you to be. Not as a challenge or a conquest or any of that rot. I see a beautiful, brilliant witch that I want a very real chance with, and I know I won’t get one unless I prove that I mean it.”

Gnawing on her lip, Hermione looked from him to her books. It was a terrible idea. And yet… “I like roses.”

His head quirked curiously.

“I know that’s cliché as they’re the most obvious flower. But I find them beautiful. Not an entire dorm of them, but… a few, or just one, would be nice.”

Slowly, a grin bloomed. “You know, apparently, all our friends have a bet going that we’ll end up together.”

“Do they?”

James nodded. “So, in two months, either I make Sirius an even richer wizard or Remus gets to raid his favourite bookstore.”

Hermione squinted. “Which one bet we’ll get together?”

“Which one do you want to win?”

“Remus, if only because he’ll spend his winnings smartly.”

“Good.” He stood from the table then. “He thinks we’ll get together before graduation.” Tucking his hands in his pockets, he said, “Roses, huh? I can do that.”

Shaking her head, Hermione watched him go, fighting a losing battle against a smile.

Three weeks later, Remus collected his winnings from Sirius when they caught Hermione and James snogging on a picnic blanket, sprawled out by the Black Lake, a basket of goodies and a bouquet of red-tipped yellow roses nearby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: red-tipped yellow roses signify 'falling in love'
> 
> you know how a Harry Potter marathon airs every Christmas? guess who's been reading/writing Harry Potter fic since I binge-watched the series over break? the amount of James/Hermione fic I've consumed (sometimes twice or three times over, when desperate. there aren't a ton of a fic out there for them) is nuts. the amount i've written... you don't want to see the many WIPs i have for them. needless to say, there are a handful of prompt fills completed and far more longer fics in the works. i don't plan to release those until they're closer to being completed though. so for now, hopefully you enjoy these prompt fills. the next one is far less light hearted, lol


	2. “I can’t have this argument with you again.” “But—” “No. I’m done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags** : Marauders Era; Same Age; Time Travel; (Attempted?) Fix-it  
>  **face claim** : [C A S T](https://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/promptfill)

**One Minute**

**_17 November 1979_ **

The smell of spell-fire hung in the air. It stung her nose with every gulping breath as Hermione knelt in the damp grass, hands hanging limp in her lap, wand dangling from loose fingers. She tipped her head back, eyes set unseeing on the starry sky above. She shouldn't let her guard down just yet. Just because their opponents had apparated away didn't mean they couldn't come back. But exhaustion hit her so squarely in her knees that standing up seemed an impossible task.

"Hey. Hey, talk to me." James collided with her, skidding to a halt nearly on top of her. Shaking hands caught one shoulder while the other cupped her face gently.

Hermione shouldn't lean into it. If anything, moments like this should remind her of why distance was so important. Eight months she'd been in the past, fighting the same but different war. She'd come here with a purpose but somehow it had all gotten so tangled.

"Hermione?" His voice was low and urgent. Cradling her head, he gently tipped it forward. "Did they hit you?"

She stared at him. The sheer force of his panic and worry was written clearly across his face. He'd never been good at hiding his feelings. He wore them on his sleeve when he wasn't declaring them openly for anyone to hear. Hermione was reminded of a time when she would have appreciated boldly stated facts rather than uncertain and unspoken tension. But James wasn't Ron. There was a time when that might have stung to think. Here, now, Ron Weasley hadn't even been born yet. And whatever feelings she had for him, never given a real opportunity to move past _potential_ , were eclipsed by what she was feeling now. What she'd been fighting back for months.

"I'm okay." She took a deep breath, hoping it would steady her. Willing herself to get up and move forward. She could practically hear Moody in her head, screaming about constant vigilance. "We shouldn't stay. They could come back."

"We can take a minute," he argued.

He was always doing that. James Potter had never met a fact he didn't want to debate. He stood defiantly in the face of every rule, searching for a loophole. It was simultaneously frustrating beyond belief and terribly attractive. He must be exactly what people imagined when they thought of a Gryffindor. Recklessly courageous, unwaveringly confident, impossibly bold.

In a moment that seemed to bleed away, however. The intensity of their situation seemed to flood him, reminding him of how close it had been. This wasn't school. This wasn't house rivalry. This was life or death and, too often lately, it was usually death.

Eyes falling closed, he leaned in, forehead falling to meet hers. "Just a minute."

The furrow of his brow had become so familiar. The weight on his shoulders hung heavy, but he got up and faced it day in and day out. Friends and strangers were dying every other week. The Horcruxes were only half found; the location of the rest more mystery than fact. The world was chaos and there was no telling how much worse it would get.

They would tell stories of James one day, she thought. Of how strong he was; how he stood in proud defiance of the Dark Lord; how he never faltered in his beliefs, not even in the face of death. Harry would know his father was a good man that tried his best. But he would never see James in moments like these, when the walls came down and the fear crept in, and he clung to a few seconds of peace. At least, she hoped he wouldn't. She hoped, years from now, Harry would only see a brave and happy James, full of love and laughter. Not a man gutted by the uncertainty of war, shadowed by every misstep or mistake.

Taking on a life of their own, her fingers skimmed his temple, stroking through his hair in a wave pattern, sliding down his neck before starting over. His eyes opened slowly and the way he looked at her, the weight of it, the honesty, shook her down to her toes. Her mouth trembled.

"James," she whispered.

He shook his head. "Don't. Don't push me away." His thumb stroked her cheek. "One minute. That's all I ask." But it'd been more than a minute. And she knew if she gave him one, he'd want another and another and—

Tears clung to her lashes. "We can't."

A stubborn look crossed his face. "You're asking me to do something I can't do." He pulled her in closer, until she was in his lap, their chests pressed together. "Whatever future you came from, whatever history you were taught, it was wrong. It has to be. Because there's no world where I don't love you."

She gripped the nape of his neck. "I screwed it all up. I was never supposed to—"

"You were." He nodded, his eyes wide and pleading. "You _were!_ This is where you belong. Here, with me."

How many times had she told him he was wrong? That whatever he felt was fleeting? How many times had she denied them any opportunity of exploring this… this _draw_ between them? The moment she arrived in this time something had shifted. In the world, inside her. She met his eyes across a crowded Order meeting and things slotted into place with such unshakeable certainty that her breath had caught. But it was an impossible position to be in. He was the last person she could ever be with. It didn't matter that he said he and Lily had separated, going on nearly a year now. She had a mission to complete and none of it involved falling in love.

"I know you feel this. I know you love me too."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm not your future."

"You are." His thumbs stroked across her cheeks. "I can feel it in my bones, Hermione Granger. You're it."

Mouth trembling, she opened her eyes to see him staring back at her knowingly. Shoring up her defenses, she told him, "I can't have this argument with you again."

His chin set stubbornly. "But—"

"No." She shifted out of his lap and shook her head. "I'm done."

"Hermione—"

"No more missions together," she decided. "You'll partner with Sirius or Lily or—"

" _No_." He caught her hips before she could wriggle too far away. "We stick together."

"James—"

"You trusted me enough to tell me why you're here. You promised me I could help you!"

"That was before." She shook her head. "That was when you were throwing yourself into fights with no fear for your own life."

"Right, and you couldn't lose me then." He scoffed. "Not when you need me to make your best friend."

Hermione glared. "That's not fair."

"Lie to me then. Tell me a part of you wasn't keeping me close so you wouldn't lose Harry."

Swallowing tightly, she stared at him searchingly. "Of course that's part of it. I came back because he died. Because Voldemort _won_. So yes, a part of this mission was always making sure you made it long enough for him to live."

His nostrils flared angrily.

"I didn't _know_ you. You were just a story to me. A dream of Harry's. You were the man Sirius admired and Remus missed. You were an impossibly perfect ghost. And when I got here, I thought I could do it all from a distance. The Horcruxes, fighting Voldemort, all of it. But then you— _You_ went ahead and threw yourself in front of every wand that so much as glanced in my direction—"

"Because you weren't looking out for yourself!" he argued. "You were so busy thinking about the future, you weren't seeing what was happening around you. You're a target! You've always been one. Even here, where they don't know you, they can feel it. You _radiate_ it. Power and rage and _grief_. So yes, I got in between you and a few curses. I only just found you, I wasn't going to lose you because you were being too pigheaded to see you need help too."

"Pigheaded!?" she cried.

"That's all you heard?" He shook his head at her, letting out a loud, groaning laugh. "Merlin, Hermione, you drive me barmy."

"Well, nobody asked you to play protector. I've been fighting in this war since I was a child. I didn't ask you to—"

"You don't have to ask," he shouted, throwing his hands up. "From the moment you walked into Longbottom Hall, I knew two things. That you were going to turn my entire life upside down and that I was going to let you. And you have. You are relentlessly stubborn and impossibly bossy. You've fought me every step of the way, but I'll curse myself before I let you do any of this alone. You are _stuck_ with me. And if that means you never return my feelings, fine. It hurts like hell, but it would hurt a lot more to lose you completely. You are hellbent on putting Voldemort down, even at the cost of your own life, so I'll be there, every step of the way, to drag your reckless arse out of the fire."

"You're calling me reckless?" She let out a squawking, indignant laugh. "Have you never met a mirror?"

"Then we'll be reckless together!" he declared. A breeze was sending his already messy hair into chaos; mixed with his wide eyes, it made him look utterly wild.

Drawing a deep breath, Hermione reached over and shoved at his chest, only managing to knock him back an inch. Too sturdy, too stubborn, to go far. "I am trying to do what's right! I have a mission. I came here for one purpose."

"Oh, sod the mission."

Hermione's mouth fell ajar. "Are you out of your mind?"

"The mission was flawed."

"It's not! It's—"

"I don't love Lily," he interrupted. "There will be no wedding and no baby. You can't force me to fit into a mold I no longer fit. I have no idea what happened in your timeline that reunited us. But I know it can't be fixed."

Her chest heaved with emotion.

He reeled her back in, across the grass until their knees were slotted together. "The Longbottoms will go into hiding. Peter is _dead_. Regulus survived. And we have at least half of the Horcruxes. I don't know what happens after this." He shook his head. "I don't know how long it will take for us to get the rest. I don't know how we'll kill Voldemort. I don't know who will live and who won't, and you don't either. But I know that I love you."

Hermione turned her head away, biting down hard on her lip.

"I know that doesn't make sense to you. I know that when I tell you I saw you across a crowded room and knew exactly what you would mean to me you think it's just short of divination bullshit, but I know myself." His hands found hers, tangling their finger together and tugging until she let her eyes meet his again. "All it took was a few conversations, a handful of heated arguments, a bottle of wine and a night full of confessions, and I fell for you. It doesn't matter how many times you tell me it doesn't make sense. It does to me. You make sense to me in a way nobody ever has."

"Lily…" She hiccupped, eyes blurred from tears. "And Harry."

"In some alternate universe, maybe they are some other James' world. But here, right now, you're everything to me. That's not going to change."

She squeezed his fingers. "It feels… _selfish_."

"You deserve to be happy. You deserve a life outside of all this."

"Harry was always the hero. I just wanted to do the right thing."

"And you are. You gave up your life, your world, everybody you knew, to come here and change it all. You're saving us. You've already saved me."

She stared at him searchingly. This impossibly earnest man who had stolen into her life and refused to be removed. If she were being honest, she was glad for it. There were days she wasn't sure she could have kept going without him there to pick her up and hold her together.

"I _do_ love you," she murmured. "I love you so much. But—"

"Don't," he interrupted hoarsely. "Just… Just let me have that. Just for a minute."

She leaned in, releasing one of his hands to cup her palm around the nape of his neck, drawing him in until their foreheads met. "I love you, James."

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, and buried a shaking hand in her hair.

Her thumb dragged down his neck, a warm, weighty swipe. And then she said, "Take us home."

He stared at her a moment, searching her face, and then his arm was around her. He apparated them out of the field and back into the flat they'd been sharing. His idea, telling her it'd be easier for them to plan their Horcrux hunt if they were sharing quarters. She knew better, of course. He wanted her close. He'd gravitated toward her from the very first day, orbiting as close as she would let him. The moment he saw a way in, he'd taken it. And she let him. She was always letting him.

Against her better judgment, she let James Potter wiggle his way into her plans, her home, her heart, all of it. She couldn't be sure why it was she told him everything. They'd sat around a fire, sharing a bottle of cheap wine, bickering about silly, inconsequential things. A cover for her very real worry over just how quick he was to always get between her and whichever Death Eater happened across her path. And somehow, she'd let her guard down enough to admit the one secret she should never have spoken aloud. Who and what she was, where and when she was from, how and why she planned to fix things. And it had taken him all of a minute to think it over before he declared, "I'm in."

It didn't matter how much she tried to convince him this was her fight alone, he wasn't having it. So, when he proposed they move in together— "Separate rooms, of course, love. For now…"— she'd agreed, albeit reluctantly. For all her uncertainty, they worked well together. He really was a brilliant wizard and he threw himself whole-heartedly into Horcux hunting and battle strategy. For James, once someone had earned his trust and loyalty, they had all of it, and so she had a friend, a partner, a _something_.

She was not surprised to see he had apparated them directly into his very dark bedroom, leaving them knelt atop his bed.

His thumb caught her chin and kept it raised so they were eye to eye, his breath fanning over her mouth. The blue glow of night filtered through the window and crossed the bed. His features were half-drowned in shadow.

When she'd planned to travel to the past and make things right, she thought she'd find James' resemblance to Harry an encouragement, a reminder of what she was doing this for. Instead, she quickly learned that as similar as James and Harry were, they were wholly different people. Harry had always been her best friend. Closer to a brother than anything. She would have laid her life down for him in an instant. Despite rumors and speculation, there had never been anything romantic about their bond. She could not say the same for James.

Attraction was such a strange thing. That, at least, she could chalk up to hormones and familiarity and isolation and loneliness. Except there were plenty of men in the Order. Trustworthy men she could turn to for comfort and stress relief. But none of them were James and her stupid, reckless heart had set itself on the most impossible of dreams.

Only, not so impossible now, was it?

His thumb rubbed across her bottom lip and she let out a shaky breath.

"I need you to be sure. I don't want to wake up tomorrow to an empty flat and a letter of apologies while you run off and take this mission on yourself."

Hermione winced. She wanted to argue that she would never, but truthfully, she might. Even as a part of her leaned into him, another, more logical part, was reminding her that this was not smart. That this could only end in heartbreak for one or both of them.

The future had already been unmistakeably changed. There was no way to put it back, no way to be sure certain people or events would still continue. They were walking an unfamiliar path now; the outcome just as uncertain as ever. As much as she mourned the control she once had, knowing who would die and how to prevent it, there was comfort in realizing that enough had changed that the outcome that sent her back had likely been avoided. Except that Harry was that purpose and her mere presence here suggested he may not exist at all.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't right.

It was terrible and reckless and selfish and awful.

And she hated that a part of her still wanted so desperately to have James, to let him love her like he wanted to, to forgive herself this disloyalty.

But who was she if not the loyal best friend of Harry Potter?

James sighed, as if he could read the indecision in her face. After all these months, he likely could.

He fell forward, his forehead meeting hers, and his hand slid down, folding at her nape, fingers twisting in her hair.

"It should be enough. _Love_. It should be all we need."

Closing her eyes, Hermione hugged her arms around his waist. "I wish it was. I wish it could make all of this okay."

Sighing, he slid his arm around her, and held on tight. "Just one more minute. And then you can walk away, and I'll be right here imagining every what if we'll never get to see."

Hermione swallowed tightly. "What if I stayed?"

"What if I kissed you?"

"What if the war ended tomorrow?"

"What if we ran away?"

"Eloped in France."

"Settled in a little cottage with all the books you could ever want for."

"And your own Quidditch pitch."

"Grow old together, until our wrinkles have wrinkles."

"It's a lovely dream."

He hummed. "The loveliest." He searched her eyes and shifted just a little.

She should lean away, cover his mouth with her hand, flee to her own room. Bury her regret and sorrow in a pillow, cry herself to sleep over all the dreams that wouldn't come true. Instead, she stayed still, let the faint brush of his lips whisper over hers once, twice. And then she was raising her chin to meet a kiss she shouldn't. Was this goodbye or hello?

What it wasn't was ending anytime soon.

One kiss turned into another and another, just like everything always did with James. And then his hands were pulling her shirt open and shoving it down her arms. She was pulling his own up his body and over his head, leaving his hair even messier. She wasn't sure. She couldn't lie and say she wouldn't flee come morning, overwhelmed with guilt and regret. But he knew that. He knew that she was struggling with what all of this, any of this, meant. Her denims joined his on the floor as she laid back on the bed and he stripped everything away. Hands, rough from years of Quidditch, stroked across her skin from her ankles to her neck, exploring and memorizing every inch of her.

It had been so very long since she was with anyone like this. So long since she felt comfortable baring everything; scars and sins and skin. His mouth skimmed from one end of a purple scar to the other, shoulder to opposing hip. Acceptance and love; it flooded her from head to toe before settling, deep and warm in her chest.

And oh, but he fit so well between her legs, her thighs hitched high on his hips, their tangled hands pressed against the mattress on either side of her head as he sunk into her. He left bruising kisses down the slope of her neck, teeth and tongue scoring her skin, his fingers squeezing down against the back of her hand until she could feel their imprint in tendon and bone. She arched up into the bite of it all; the way her skin absorbed every desperate attempt to claim her like a medal of honor. The sting of his fingers coiling in her hair and tugging her head back as he dragged his tongue down her throat, teeth scraping across her collar bones.

It was a rising crescendo of sensation. Tears bit at her eyes as he kissed her, slow and sipping, a sweet contract to the way his fingers teased around her clit, just enough to keep her on edge, twitching and desperate. He whispered the filthiest things in her ear; promises and fantasies that she wished they could explore. She bit her lip so she wouldn't beg; she wanted it to last as long as possible. She wanted to bury herself in this feeling so everything else wouldn't overwhelm her.

But nothing lasts forever.

His mouth folded around a nipple and tugged, his fingers finally applying just enough pressure to her clit that there was no escaping the build up. It crashed over her, pulling her under and sending her into a spiraling, gasping mess. And just as soon as it ended, he was moving inside her deeper and faster, his fingers still gently strumming her. She was so sensitive it nearly hurt, but then she was coming again, nails scoring his shoulders as her body seemed to seize up against the onslaught, only to fall utterly limp in the aftermath. Her chest heaved with choppy breaths, feeling strangely both very aware of her body and somewhat separated from it.

He bit down on her shoulder as he came, groaning, low and deep. One of his hands stroked along her thigh and hip as he nuzzled his face against her chest. She combed her fingers through his sweat dampened hair, trailing them down his neck and across his shoulders. She knew, once the high of everything wore off, reality would come knocking. But for now, for just one minute more, there was nothing but the two of them. No obligations, no missions, no regrets.

There was just the soft press of his lips climbing her neck and the lazy draw of his fingers circling her shoulder. His heart beating so fast, she could feel it against her body. He kissed from behind her ear to the corner of her mouth. And his eyes, hazel and warm, stared at her from above, soft and radiating with love.

Did she look the same? Was it as obvious on her face? The smug tilt of his mouth said it was.

Her lips parted, though she couldn't be sure what she was going to say. Not to be so smug. That it couldn't happen again. That their minute was long over. But then he was kissing her; short and sweet and entirely too effective. She knew it was a stalling technique and that it wouldn't keep the inevitable from happening. But that didn't stop her from kissing him back.

Just one more minute, she told herself as he shifted off her and pulled her against his side in a tangle of arms and legs and naked skin.

One more and then she would do what she had to; the right thing.

Sixty seconds could be so terribly, wonderfully long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much angstier than the first piece, huh? this was actually the first prompt i wrote, but i thought i'd kick things off with something more lighthearted. i just like the intensity of what's right or wrong in a situation like this. hermione wants to do the right thing. she feels like she owes harry that. but she's also irrevocably changed the past enough that james and lily have no chance of being together. so, does it make sense to deny each other the opportunity for happiness? clearly, james doesn't think so. i have a second, and possibly a third, part in mind for this. let me know if you're interested. otherwise, i'm working on a few other prompts and hope to have them out soon. :)
> 
> thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!  
> ~ Lee | Fina


	3. "Stop moving and let me braid your hair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : "Stop moving and let me braid your hair."  
>  **rating** : pg  
>  **tags** : marauders era; same age
> 
>  **face claims** : [C A S T](https://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/promptfill)

James watched from his perch on a well-worn armchair, legs dangling over the side, cheek propped against an upturned fist. "Do you think I should grow my hair out?"

Remus looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the chair, a book propped open in his lap. He followed James' longing stare to its usual recipient.

Hermione was seated on the edge of the couch, glowering down at Sirius, whose shoulders were resting against her as he played a game of Wizard's chess with Peter.

"Stop moving and let me braid your hair," she grumbled. "This was your idea!"

He tipped his head to see her and smirked. "Only because you said I couldn't pull off pig tails."

"I stand by what I said, but it's difficult to prove a theory when you won't stay still."

"it's not my fault Pete's cheating."

"Oi! I'm not cheating," Peter cried. "I'm just better at chess than you are."

"You're sneakier," Sirius scoffed. He returned his attention to the chess board, one hand stroking over his chin.

Hermione restarted the braid, choosing to start higher and create a French braid. She tipped Sirius' head for better access, rolling her eyes when he mumbled a complaint.

"Doesn't exactly look fun, does it?" Remus mused.

"Could be, under the right circumstances." James watched Hermione's fingers card through Sirius' hair, her brow furrowed with concentration. He'd give his last galleon to be in his best mate's place right about now.

"If you want her to play with your hair, just ask her." Remus grinned to himself. "I don't think she'll turn you down."

"Shouldn't I come up with a reason?"

Sighing, Remus flipped a page, and then called out, "Think James has enough hair to go next?"

Hermione looked up, eyeing James over Remus' shoulder.

He flushed under her scrutiny but was prepared to blame it on the heat coming off the fireplace. Puffing his chest out, he grinned at her. "I won't give you half the hassle."

She snorted, unconvinced. "I know you well enough to assume you'll give me twice the hassle given half the chance."

He laughed under his breath and, before he could give it much thought, flipped his legs over Remus' head to stand. He crossed the floor and took a seat on the sofa next to her, close enough their hips were pressed together. "We could always switch places and I could braid your hair."

"You sound entirely too confident. My hair's not exactly cooperative."

James' gaze bounced up to her bushy curls, pulled into a ponytail, her hairband struggling to hold it all together. "Won't know 'til I try."

Hermione hummed. "Your fingers will cramp before you finish."

His smile widened. "I promise you, my fingers are up to the task."

A pretty pink blush suffused her face and she flicked Sirius' ear when she heard him let out a barking laugh. "Shut up."

Sirius ducked out of her reach, rolling across the floor, his hair only partially braided and looking, frankly, terrible. But he merely stretched himself out on the floor, smirking back at her. "Go on then, Granger. Let Prongs' talented fingers have their way with you."

She threw a pillow at his face, but he batted it away easily.

"Always so aggressive," Sirius bemoaned.

"Only when you deserve it." Hermione shifted in her seat, pulling one leg up beneath her and gnawing her lip. Her gaze glanced from Sirius to James, suddenly looking uncertain and nervous.

"Come on," James cajoled. "If I'm terrible at it, you can make fun of me later."

She rolled her eyes. "You won't be the one who has to detangle it."

"If I mess it up too badly, I'll unmess it too." James shrugged. "My hair isn't any less wild."

"Yes, but you make yours look good." She pursed her mouth as if it had betrayed her.

James sat a little taller, flooded with confidence. "I happen to like your hair."

Hermione eyed him, as if searching for some sign of deception. But there was none to be found. James was being sincere. Her hair was absolutely wild and seemed to have zero interest in becoming anything else. But it was also quite fitting for her. Oh, Hermione tried very hard to be a rule-abiding, no-nonsense, swot, but he'd seen her when she let the veneer down. She could be ruthless and unrestrained and utterly inspired when she was mad enough. Like in second year, when she set Mulciber's robes on fire every time he so much as glanced in Mary MacDonald's direction. Or when Sirius wouldn't stop pestering her while she tried to study so she sent conjured birds to sing shrilly in his ears at the crack of dawn for three days straight (the length of time it took before he promised to never do it again). Or when she hexed Evan Rosier so that the word 'liar' would appear on his face anytime he tried to spread a rumor, whether it was true or not. Coincidentally, that was about the time he started spreading it around that Remus was a werewolf.

James could pinpoint the exact moment he realized he fancied Hermione Granger. It was fifth year…

_Hermione Granger and Dorcas Meadowes came running into the common room, laughing and leaning on each other, flushed and out of breath. Last he'd seen them, they were on their way to the kitchens, planning to grab a few snacks before curfew. Sirius had unsuccessfully tried to convince them to bring him back food too._

_When Sirius asked what happened, Hermione shook her head, but Dorcas proudly informed them, "Hermione here punched Lucius Malfoy."_

_When the Marauders leapt up to ask questions, lamenting that they weren't there to see it, Hermione had merely rolled her eyes, clearly embarrassed about her outburst. "He was being rude to the house elves," she defended._

_"How dare he," Sirius mused, grinning._

_Hermione crossed her arms. "Well, they couldn't tell him to leave them alone and he didn't take kindly to Dorcas telling him he was being rude."_

_"I called him a horse-faced plonker," Dorcas corrected._

_"Same sentiment." Hermione cleared her throat and tugged nervously at her pullover. "Anyway, it was reckless. I can't imagine how many house points it'll cost us, or how many detentions he'll demand."_

_"I doubt it." Dorcas scoffed. "He'd have to admit a girl two years his junior broke his pretty nose."_

_"You broke it!?" Sirius cried, gripping James' shoulder. "And you couldn't invite us to the show?"_

_"I hardly planned it." Hermione frowned at him. "And I don't know if it was broken. It was certainly bleeding, but we ran back here before I could get a good look."_

_"What was he saying to the house elves?" Remus wondered._

_Hermione's mouth twisted up. "Oh, it was awful. He was purposely telling them their cooking was terrible and they should all be fired. Some of them started burning themselves." Her mouth wobbled. "He just wanted them to hurt themselves. He tried to hit one of them with that cane of his. What kind of pretentious tosser even has a decorative cane at seventeen?"_

_James' grin widened. "Hermione Granger, saviour of house elves and breaker of noses."_

_Hermione raised her chin. "Is that judgement I'm hearing?"_

_He shook his head. "Pride, actually. Good on you. Any Malfoy I've ever met deserved a good head rattle."_

_Dorcas hung an arm around Hermione's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Let's just hope he learned a lesson."_

_"I highly doubt he'll be any kinder to house elves," Hermione lamented._

_"No, but at least he'll know someone's willing to knock his block off." With that, Dorcas dragged Hermione off toward the dorms._

_James stared after them, something warm unfurling in his chest._

She had a soft heart and a mean right hook. What else was James to do but fall head over arse for her? And then spend the next two years having no idea how to tell her. It was different to how he'd done things when he fancied Lily Evans in third and fourth year, where the bigger the declaration, the louder the rejection. Maybe he was a little wand-shy after being told repeatedly that he was a toe-rag unworthy of dating. To be fair, he had rather mercilessly pranked her best mate. Upon reflection, he could admit his tactics were… underdeveloped. Besides, he was pretty sure Hermione wouldn't respond well to public declarations of love. But James was built for being loud and proud, so subtlety often seemed more difficult.

"You get one opportunity." Hermione tugged the band off and let her hair down. "If, at any point, I think you're rearranging my hair into a bird's nest or pulling any sort of prank at all, I will retaliate, and you will regret it."

James perked up. "Deal."

Hermione hesitated a moment before shifting forward. "Do you want me to sit on the floor then?"

"Wherever you're comfortable. I'll adapt."

Chewing her lip, Hermione lowered herself down to the floor in the same spot Sirius had been and folded her hands in her lap.

James took a seat behind her, his knees on either side of her shoulders. Having no sisters might have hampered most at learning how to braid, but James had always been fond of braiding random bits of his mum's hair. Her long black hair reached down to her waist and despite what a mess he made of it, she used to tell him how much she loved the little braids he left randomly throughout. Hermione's hair was quite a bit different from his mum's; chestnut brown and much more untamed.

James started with just combing his fingers through it to untangle any knots. He could feel how tense Hermione was; her shoulders in a straight, stiff line as she anticipated some strange prank. But James had no intention of bungling this up. He wasn't completely sure what his intentions were aside from spending time with her.

Sirius and Peter had ventured over to a table, taking their chess board with them, and Remus had stolen the armchair, head buried in his book. So, it was just the two of them now.

Having no idea what to say, James instead focused on his combing. He ran his fingers through from one side of her head to the other, gently untangling any curls and knots he came across. Her hair was voluminous and unexpectedly soft. When he was absolutely sure it was as tangle free as it was going to get, he started at the top. It was Mipsy, his house elf, that taught him how to French braid. She didn't have much hair herself, but she used to braid skeins of yarn and clip them to what little hair she did have as a sort of hair extension. Her favourite was always the pink, and James made sure to compliment her whenever she wore it.

Slowly, as his fingers carefully parted Hermione's hair and began to braid it together, he felt her relax. Her head tipped forward and her shoulders sunk and he could hear the smooth, even sound of her breathing. There was a strange sense of intimacy to doing this, he realized. He couldn't imagine Hermione letting just anyone touch her hair, having heard enough people insult it over the years. But she let him, and he thought he should probably feel rather honored.

"Where'd you learn to braid?" she murmured softly.

"My mum let me braid her hair. Mipsy, our house elf, showed me how."

"Are you close with her?"

"My mum or Mipsy?" He paused. "Suppose the answer's the same for both. I'm an only child so my parents tended to dote on me. Or, as Remus likes to say, spoiled me rotten."

She laughed lightly. "I'm an only child too. But I don't think my parents had to worry about me causing much trouble. I spent a lot of time reading."

"Of course you did," he mused affectionately. "I bet you had a book in your hand the very first chance you got."

Hermione pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. "Books are much easier than people. Their only purpose is to be read. People can be so strange and fickle."

"You and Dorcas get on well."

"Dorcas took me under her wing first year. She's always been kind."

"That's what friends do, don't they?"

Hermione hummed. "She was my first friend ever. Some of the kids at my Muggle school were polite, even nice, but none of them were my friends."

"Mipsy was my first friend. My parents introduced me to other kids my age, all from good pureblood families, but a lot of them just didn't fit. And when your considered a blood traitor, people don't always want their kids around you."

"Good way to thin out the wrong sort," Hermione decided.

He smiled. "My parents thought so too."

"Are you still close with Mipsy?"

"She's like a second mum to me, but yeah. Mipsy's great." James was finishing off the braid now; it was thick and a few of her curls were trying desperately to spring free, but it was sturdy. "Hair band?"

"Oh!" Hermione rolled one off her wrist and passed it back over her shoulder.

Tying it off, he slid it over one shoulder and used the tail to tickle her cheek. "There. See?"

Hermione twisted at the waist, her back pressing against his knee as she looked up at him. "If it looks half as good as it feels, I might need to keep you around."

James gulped, his eyebrows arched faintly. "You can keep me any way you want."

A smile formed until she bit down on her bottom lip. "Was this whole hair braiding thing just an elaborate attempt to tell me you fancy me?"

His eyes narrowed. "Would it have worked if it was?"

Pushing up onto her knees, she knelt there, boldly between his legs. She tilted her head back to see him better, stubborn chin raised. "You're not very subtle."

"Never really found a reason to be."

"You tend to stare. Dorcas calls it 'ogling.'"

"Ogling implies a lack of respect," he argued. "I respectfully admire from afar."

"Sometimes you sigh when I look at you. It's very wistful."

"I've been called worse."

She laughed. "I didn't say it was a bad thing."

His gaze fell briefly before he admitted, "I don't have the best track record of telling girls I fancy them."

"I remember. Evans wasn't very subtle either." She ran a hand down her braid. "I like this approach of yours much better. I think I might've hexed you if you'd tried proposing to me in the Great Hall."

"I've seen your hexes and I'm glad I didn't." He stared at her searchingly. "Are you… Would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

A beat passed and then another and James felt nervous in a way that made his stomach twist up in knots. It wasn't unlike a freefall when flying; fear mixed with anticipation.

"On one condition."

He perked up. "Anything."

Shaking her head, she said, "You really shouldn't give me, or anyone for that matter, that kind of control."

James shrugged. "I trust you."

"Well, I'll try to be worthy of that." She chewed her lip. "Anyway, my one request is that you do my hair before we go. Your braids are much tighter than mine. At least if you do it, it'll probably stay in place the whole time."

Romantic that he was, he could admit he was already daydreaming of them years in the future, when they'd both long gone silver, and his knobby fingers were the only ones to braid her wild hair. "I'd be happy to."

Hermione gave a quick nod. "Then it's a date."

The first of many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll all be excited to know that i wrote a sequel to 'one minute,' and a chunk of a third part too. i plan to have the sequel out tomorrow! in the mean time, it thought i'd put out something sweet and fluffy to balance the angst of the previous prompt. :P
> 
> thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!  
> ~ Lee | Fina


	4. "I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags** : Marauders Era; Same Age; Time Travel; (Attempted?) Fix-it  
>  **face claim** : [C A S T](https://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/promptfill)

**minute two**

**_28 December 1979_ **

This should be impossible. It had to be. Or maybe she was getting her hopes up and making assumptions?

Hermione paced from one end of the small bathroom to the other.

The dates matched up, but no. No, it couldn't be that.

There was still too much to do. She still had so much she needed to fix. There was still one more Horcrux out there and as long as it existed, Voldemort could not be defeated. Never mind that she had no idea who would do the defeating. Dumbledore? Or…

Her hands fell to her stomach.

_No._

Absolutely not.

It wouldn't really be Harry. It couldn't be, not truly.

Unless time was adjusting itself. Like it had when Hermione Jean Granger hadn't been born in September. But what did that mean for her? For James? Was all of this for nothing in the end? Would it still result in an orphaned child? And who would raise him then? She had no family in this time. James' parents, though spared from Dragon Pox, were still quite a bit older. Of course they would take him, but she had no idea how many years they had left. Would Sirius still be sent to Azkaban somehow? Would Remus roam the world, lost and alone?

A hopeful voice, one that sounded entirely too much like James, said this was a blessing. Her biggest fear resolved. Harry existed. Maybe not in the same fashion as before. But this was him, wasn't it? She couldn't truly know for sure. A coincidence, maybe. But what were the odds of that? What were the odds she would be pregnant around the same time Lily Potter would have been? And after only sleeping with James once. Or, more accurately, spending only one night with him. They'd made up for lost time, even knowing it couldn't progress beyond that.

Only it wasn't that simple now, was it?

Was it ever simple?

"Honey, I'm home!" called a cheerful voice.

Hermione cursed under her breath. She splashed cool water on her face and then patted it dry with a hand towel. It did nothing to hide the puffiness of her eyes or the rawness of her chewed lip. But there was nothing for that now. If she cast a glamour on herself, it would just garner more questions. So, instead, she made her way out of the loo and down the hall to the kitchen.

Sirius was digging around in the fridge, collecting all the ingredients for a good sandwich. Eight months ago, when James informed Sirius and Remus that he was moving out of their flat and setting up house with Hermione, Sirius had rather dramatically deemed her a thief, stealing away his best mate. That hadn't stopped him from visiting nearly daily and treating her fridge and pantry as his own personal grocers. Or from dropping in each evening in search of supper.

"No Remus? Usually he's here to remind you how rude it is to pop by and steal my food."

"Is it still stealing if I offer to make you something too?" He glanced up at her, already grinning, only to pause as he caught sight of her face. "All right?"

"Fine." She made her way to the stove and grabbed the kettle, filling it with water. "I'll take a sandwich if you're making one."

"Only the best sandwich you'll ever eat." He rubbed his hands together as he started getting things ready.

Hermione got a pair of cups out for their tea. She watched as Sirius pulled out leftover roast, mustard, pickles, and a collection of vegetables. When it came to food, he liked to throw the whole fridge together and see what came out. To be fair, it was usually quite tasty, so she chose to trust his process.

"You and James have a row?" Sirius wondered, slicing up a cucumber.

Hermione frowned. "No. Not really."

"Not really meaning nothing out of the ordinary? Just your usual argument about making things official?"

Snorting, Hermione focused on their tea. "If I remember correctly, you called me Yoko Ono like a month after we met."

"Well, in my defense, you did break up the band."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You see James every day. You probably see him more than I do. You're hardly broken up."

"Ah, but we were a quartet of bachelors before you came along. Now we've buried a rat in a shoebox and whenever Jamesy joins us at the pub, he remains aloof toward temptation. It's no fun when a third of your group wants to run home to his non-girlfriend. Not to mention the drunken rants about soul mates and cock blocking clocks. Not entirely sure what he was trying to get at there, but the ladies steer clear."

Placing his cup of tea in his reach, Hermione took a seat at the table. "I can't control what James does with his evenings."

"In fact, you can." He gestured with the knife absently. "He's head over arse for you, put him out of his misery already. He's never going to give up, you know. That's not how he works."

Hermione pursed her lips. "You never said where Remus was. You two are usually attached at the hip."

"He's on a special assignment." He winked at her. "Details are under wraps so don't try to crack the vault that is Sirius Black."

Going still, Hermione frowned. "He's not…" A twisting sensation filled her stomach. "Dumbledore didn't send him to treat with the werewolf packs, did he?"

Sirius frowned. "No… Should he have? That's the last place Moony should be. All alone, navigating those packs. Terrible idea."

Blowing out a relieved breath, she nodded. "Is he with James then? He left for a mission yesterday."

Sirius paused, gaze falling to the cutting board. "No, different mission."

The tone of his voice was off, which Hermione knew meant that he was being deceptive. Maybe the strangest thing about Sirius was that if he wanted to lie, he was flawless at it. But when he didn't, he had the most obvious tells.

"Oh?" she asked, prompting him to go on and tell her whatever it was he wanted to.

"James paired up with Lily for a mission."

It wasn't the first time James and Lily had been paired up. Lily was a brilliant witch and was just as eager to fight as any of them. But there had been an increase over the last six weeks. Starting shortly after her and James' night together, it seemed he was being pulled away for more and more top-secret missions. Hermione didn't like it. Not because it was with Lily, even if a part of her did feel uncomfortable with that. But because he couldn't tell her what he was doing. He was still helping her with the Horcruxes, but she never liked the idea of being on the outside. She couldn't prepare for something if she didn't know what was going on.

"You know he's over her, don't you?"

Hermione looked up and saw the concerned look on Sirius' face. Her first instinct was to agree, but she tamped it down. "You said he never gives up, but there was a time when Lily was the only person he could imagine himself with… He spent most of Hogwarts trying to convince her."

"Which was half the problem, I imagine. Or so Remus likes to tell it." At her furrowed brow, he explained, "That's a lot of pressure. A lot to live up to."

"You think reality fell flat against all of his daydreaming of what they'd be like together?"

"In a way." He shrugged. "He really did love Lily. But it's hard to make a relationship work at the best of times. Throw the war on top of things and it gets even more complicated. They were all right in seventh year, but once we were out of Hogwarts, life got a lot harder. James isn't perfect. And contrary to popular belief, even Lily has flaws. They made an honest go of it, but eventually realized they were happier as friends."

Hermione wanted to tell him that somehow, in her original timeline, James and Lily had fixed whatever had interrupted them and found each other again, but there had been no mention of a break-up in he first place. When she arrived on 12 March 1979, James and Lily had already been broken up for nearly four months, or so she would find out two weeks later when she was invited to celebrate James' birthday at the flat he shared with Sirius, Remus, and Peter. She hadn't planned to go, but Dorcas had been vocal about how important it was to have an outlet after everything The Order required of them. So, she'd gone, and James had made quick work of befriending her.

It wouldn't be long after that James started getting reckless when they went out on missions, trying to shield her from everyone and everything. By the time Easter rolled around, she was concerned he was going to get himself killed before she could execute her well thought out plans. The Marauders had invited her over for Easter Sunday and Hermione, against her better judgement, had gone. She couldn't blame Dorcas for that one, or for the cheap wine she shared with James that night, curled up in front of the fireplace. That was the night she told him everything. Or nearly, anyway. She didn't tell him about Peter right away. She had to lead into that, preferably when they were both more sober.

Sometimes, she wondered what she might have done differently if she had known what her presence in the past would do. The only one who knew the whole truth was James. She'd told Dumbledore some of it, enough to get her foot in the door with The Order, but not enough that he might use that information to do his own bidding. While she trusted him to some degree, she also knew that he could be manipulative if he thought he could achieve his own desired outcome. She couldn't allow that. Then again, the outcome she had planned for was now irrevocably different.

"Anyway, James isn't the type to cheat. He's as loyal as they come."

Hermione looked up from her tea to find Sirius focused on his sandwich making again. "It's not cheating if we're not together."

He snorted. "You've been together since the beginning. You're just slow on admitting it."

Frowning, she said, "I've never been called slow in my life. I think I'm offended."

Popping a slice of cheese in his mouth, he grinned at her as he chewed. "Don't take it too personally. We all have our moments."

Scoffing under her breath, she wrapped her hands around her cup and let the warmth sink into her skin. "If he and Lily got back together, I wouldn't hold it against him. He deserves to be happy. They both do."

Sirius hummed. "And what about you then?"

Hermione shook her head. Her happiness was inconsequential. Wasn't it? Her hand slipped down to her stomach. She had more than just herself to think of now. Whether it was Harry she was carrying or some yet unknown mixture of her and James, she wasn't sure. But it was _someone_. She hadn't expected this. Children were always part of her life's plan, but not now. Not when she had a war just brimming on the fringes. Not when they were so close to knowing how much had been affected by her meddling. Would the prophecy be the same? Would Voldemort still target James and his coming progeny? Or would the Longbottoms have earned more attention by then? Hermione had defied Voldemort enough to qualify. His Death Eaters knew her face, her reputation.

"Here." A sandwich was placed in front of her, entirely too tall but really quite impressive. "Eat up."

"Thank you." Hermione picked up a corner and sunk her teeth into it. Flavor burst over her tongue and her eyes fluttered closed in appreciation. When she was finished chewing, she said, "Remind me again why we don't have you cook more?"

"Set a few too many fires." Sirius shrugged unapologetically and slid into a seat across the table from her. "Easily distracted."

She sipped her tea. "A likely excuse."

"He'll be back tomorrow, won't he?"

"That's the plan, but it could go longer. Why? Hoping he'll be back early enough for a New Year's party?"

Sirius grinned roguishly. "The eighties will be good to us. I can feel it!"

Hermione smiled. "I hope you're right."

* * *

…

* * *

**_31 December 1979_ **

James did not return the next day. Two days past when he was supposed to return, Hermione could admit she was a little worried. Moody had brushed off her concern, grumbling that missions changed and you just had to adapt. Still, he said, if they weren't back by tomorrow, he'd send a few people to go looking for them, even if it would compromise what they were trying to do.

Somehow, despite her worrying, Sirius had convinced her that she should come over to the flat for their party. With the full moon two days away, Remus wasn't exactly in the best mood. He'd returned from his own mission no worse for wear, but now exhaustion clung to him. She at least hoped a few dampening spells had helped with the oversensitivity of his senses. And even if he did spend much of the evening tucked in an armchair with a knit blanket around his shoulders, drinking spiked hot chocolate, it was at least better than isolating.

Hermione stuck to gilly water, nibbling at plate after plate of hors d'oeuvres, while she chatted with Dorcas, Alice, and an increasingly drunk Marlene.

A few things she had learned early on when it came to Marauders parties:

All punch bowls were off limits unless you wanted to get a buzz. Hence, why Hermione stuck to bottled gilly water.

Marlene would match Sirius drink for drink and then challenge him to a sing off, Muggle music only, and Sirius was a _shockingly_ good singer.

The only way to tell if Dorcas was drunk was when she started hitting on people twice her age. Namely Moody or McGonagall. For whatever reason, she liked how strict they were. It wasn't a train of thought Hermione wanted to follow too far.

The louder a party was, the more Sirius deemed it a success. It was lucky for the neighbors that Remus always made a point of charming the flat so the noise wouldn't disturb anyone.

And the party wasn't truly over until everyone had either gone home or passed out somewhere.

Hermione had every intention of going home as soon as the clock struck midnight. She was happy to get out for a few hours and spend it with friends. But she had a lot on her plate currently, not the least of which was her ongoing worry that something had gone wrong on James' mission. Prior to these last six weeks, it was usually her and James that were partnered for everything. She wasn't sure she could regret the fact that they weren't. Her pregnancy meant that she would need to take a back seat regarding missions for the next while.

Remus found her sitting on a chair on the balcony. There was still an hour before midnight, but Hermione needed a break from the party.

He still had the blanket around his shoulders as he sunk into a nearby chair. He'd traded in his spiked hot chocolate for a cold bottle of butterbeer and a foam mustache sat under his nose. He swiped it clean with a brush of his hand and sent a warm grin in her direction. It seemed the good mood from the party had helped take the edge off the approaching moon.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"It's been nice." He nodded. "You?"

"Can't complain."

Remus slumped down in his seat a little. "James will be fine. He always is."

"I know." She frowned. "I just wish I knew more about what was going on."

"Price we pay." He rubbed his thumb over the bottle's label. "Sirius mentioned you thought I might be sent off to treat with the werewolf packs…"

Hermione paused. "I thought Dumbledore brought that up once. He wanted to see if he could sway them away from Greyback and Voldemort."

"And you thought he'd send me?"

"He trusts you and… I could understand if the werewolves learned to as well."

Remus shook his head. "The last thing I want to do is get any closer to Greyback. Anybody who follows him would be difficult to convince anyway. Whether they follow him out of devotion or fear, his grip on them would be nearly impossible to break."

"An unfortunate reality…" Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, weighing her words before she told him, "If he does suggest it, you shouldn't. It's too dangerous, too isolated, and far too many know who your friends are and what causes you align yourself with."

"If Dumbledore thinks it could help—"

"He'd be wrong," she said firmly. "You're not expendable, Remus."

He sat back a moment, sipping at his butterbeer. It was a few minutes before he cleared his throat and said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Caring."

"Of course I care." She paused. "I know I'm not as close to you and Sirius as I am to James—"

"I don't think he'd appreciate it if you were," he joked.

Hermione snorted. " _However_ … I consider you my friends as well."

"I feel the same way."

"I'm glad." With that, she sighed. "As much as I'm enjoying this party, I think it's time I head home."

"Are you sure?" He checked his pocket watch. "Fireworks aren't far off now."

Hermione nodded. "I'm tired." She stood from her seat and reached over to squeeze his shoulder as she passed. "Happy New Year."

"Yeah, you too. Happy New Year."

Hermione made her way through the party, saying her goodbyes as she went.

A spirited Sirius pulled her into a little dance, spinning her around a few times and dipping her, before finally letting her go. He popped a sloppy kiss on her cheek, shouted a deafening 'Happy New Year,' and went back to drinking with Marlene.

Hermione made her way out into the hallway before apparating down the block from her and James' flat. She stopped at a shop to pick up a few things, including a couple hangover and pepper up potions, already expecting to see Sirius and Remus at some point tomorrow. To be fair though, the main thing she wanted to pick up was a pint of cookie dough ice cream.

She already had the lid off the container by the time she entered the flat and made her way directly to a drawer to grab out a spoon. She dropped her things on the counter and was shoving a heaping spoonful of ice cream into her mouth when she turned around and spotted a figure sitting in her favorite armchair.

In the split second it took to reach for her wand, she wondered how well she could cast through a mouthful of ice cream.

Thankfully, she wouldn't have to find out.

James pulled the string on the lamp next to him, illuminating his tired, bruised face.

Relief hit her quickly. She shoved her wand away, left the ice cream on the counter, and was crossing the room in a few long strides.

" _James_ …" She swatted his arm as soon as he was in reach. "You're two days late. We were going to send a search party if you didn't show up by tomorrow."

"Ran into a little trouble." His hands landed on her hips and tugged her forward, reeling her in until she was seated in his lap. Pressing his forehead to her shoulder, he closed his eyes and looped an arm around her, holding her close.

Hermione sunk into him, fingers carding through his hair. "You're okay? You and Lily both?"

He hummed. "Mostly." He rubbed his cheek against her; stubble scratched at her skin. "Brought you a gift."

"Yeah? Is it a souvenir from your mission or something to ring in the new year? Because I haven't gotten you anything."

"Little of both."

Hermione leaned back a little to see him. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Oh, but I did." He dragged one hand up and down her side. "You'll like this. You've wanted it for some time."

Hermione frowned. "What is it?"

"It was difficult to find. Wasn't where we thought it'd be originally, so I had do a little more digging. The owner didn't want to give it up, but luckily, I'm a better haggler than she is… She got hers in the end." His fingers were suddenly stroking along her forearm, right along her scar.

A lump formed in her throat as what she thought he was referring to started to solidify in her mind. "James. Did you…? The cup?"

He reached for a bag sitting next to the armchair and raised it. "She was keeping it at her house. Hadn't moved it to Gringotts just yet. Her and Rodolphus put up a good fight to keep us from taking it. But we walked away with the cup and they… didn't walk away at all." He winced and put the bag aside. "That's all of them then, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. "Now, all that's left is to kill Voldemort."

"Oh, is that all?"

Hermione wiggled around and laid her head down on his shoulder. "You seriously broke into Bellatrix's home, just you and Lily?"

"Wasn't easy. Had a few close calls…" He grimaced. "The intel I got let me know I had a small window, so we didn't have much choice but to get in there and try to get it out."

"But just the two of you? That's so dangerous." She paused. "Does Lily even know what it is?"

He rubbed one hand over his chin, frowning at the floor thoughtfully. "I didn't tell her it was a Horcrux. She would have questions, and we already agreed that the less people who know what a Horcrux is, the better."

"What _did_ she know?"

"That I had a lead on something important and I needed to go immediately… Remus was already on a job and Sirius just got back from one, he was exhausted."

She stared at his profile searchingly. "You should've told me. If I'd known you had a lead—"

"I know." He clenched his teeth.

Hermione waited. He always got like this when there was more to say but he needed some time to gather his thoughts. She examined him instead; there was a bruise forming high on his left cheek, dried blood under his nose, and a split in his lip. Given it was Bellatrix, she imagined the damage was less external and more internal. She had always been Crucio-happy and Hermione couldn't imagine James had walked away without experiencing it at least once under her wand. She wondered if Lily was any better, and who might be taking care of her post-mission.

"Do you remember when you told me…?" His fingers found her arm and the scar she still had trouble looking at for long. He gently rubbed above where 'd' and 'b' met. "You thought for sure you would die by her wand or that knife or she'd toss you to Greyback…" His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I remember the rage I felt. It was like a fire in my chest that I couldn't put out. And whenever we'd see her in the field, when I'd hear that cackling laugh of hers, I… I needed to know where you were. That you weren't near her. That she wasn't going to drag you off and finish the job… I couldn't concentrate on anything else. Nearly lost my head a few times because of it. So, when I realized I'd be going into her house, that chances were she'd catch me, I couldn't bring you. I couldn't let her near you again. I'd be too distracted, too worried, that I wouldn't be able to focus on the job."

Hermione stared up at him, his eyes lowered to trace the letters across her arm.

"I know that's a shit excuse. But I just… I want it to be over. I saw an opportunity to get the last Horcrux and I took it. Now, we're one step closer to the end and I… I should be relieved." He half-smiled, but it was utterly bereft. "All I can think is that he's next. He's the final piece. And I'm terrified you'll want to do it yourself."

"James," she whispered.

"I know." He blinked quickly and sniffed. "You deserve to put him down just as much as anyone, maybe even more. Everything you lost, every _one_ … And I know you're strong enough to do it. You've probably got back up plans for your back up plans. But…" He shook his head. "I don't know what I'd do… I don't know how I'd survive if you…"

Hermione reached up and cupped his face, her thumb swiping across the arch of his cheek. "I won't lie. I thought about it. A _lot_. I felt like I owed it to Harry. And I didn't want anyone else to risk their life. The point of coming back here and doing this was not just that Harry would live, but that you and your friends and so many innocent people would have the chance to live long, amazing lives… Which meant the only expendable piece on the board was myself. Though I never wanted to admit it, Dumbledore prepared me for this. Me, Harry, and Ron. We were given the latitude to go on our adventures and chase our mysteries and create our defense armies. Harry was raised in such a way as to sacrifice himself when the time came. And, in a way, so were Ron and I. Joined at his hip as we were, building up our skills as we went, readying ourselves for a war that children should never have had to fight. When Dumbledore's portrait gave me an opportunity to fix it, I took it. I jumped in with both feet, a courageous lion willing to do whatever it took to make it right. To save my best friend and everyone who ever meant something to him. And I'm still willing. It's hard not to be when you spend so many years accepting the fact that your death may result in the greater good, whether it's shielding Harry so he can face Voldemort, or doing it yourself."

Tears filled his eyes as he met hers, his mouth trembling. "It's not right," he breathed.

"No, it isn't." She smiled sadly. "None of it is."

His expression hardened, loyalty and determination on such earnest display. "I'll go with you. We'll face him together."

Hermione's heart squeezed. "If you'd said that to me a week ago, I would have agreed."

James' brow furrowed. "I won't let you do this alone."

"I know. But circumstances have changed—"

"Hermione." Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face. "I know this, _us_ , we're complicated. And I know you have ideas about how it was all supposed to go and that you think I'm being bullheaded when I tell you that it can't be that way, not anymore. But we started this together. I told you from the beginning that I was in and I meant it. If that means we die trying to put Voldemort down for good, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. It's my choice whether I'm there with you."

"Bit hypocritical when you went off and got the last Horcrux without me, not even telling me where you were going." Brow furrowed, she frowned at him. "What if you'd died? I wouldn't even know where you'd gone or what you were doing."

"I didn't want you to worry."

"You didn't want me to argue. You didn't want me to do exactly what you're doing, which is tell you that if I had known you were going to Bellatrix's home to steal a Horcrux, I should be there with you. I should be backing you up."

"Which was a dick thing to do, I admit that. But you can't argue that it was wrong for me not to include you and then decide to go against Voldemort on your own."

"That's not what I'm arguing."

"Then what are you saying?" he demanded. "Why can't I be there to fight him with you?"

"Because I… I won't be the one fighting him." Hermione sat up in his lap, her hand sliding from his face to her lap, where she tugged at her fingers anxiously. "I thought I would, and I made the necessary plans to do so. I don't know if it'll be Dumbledore or Moody or McGonagall. I just know that it won't be me and it certainly won't be you."

Confused, he shook his head. "Why?"

"Because… Because I…" She took a deep, shaky breath, and let it out slowly.

"You're worrying me." His expression softened and his hands were rubbing at her knee and her shoulder. "What happened?"

"I didn't expect this, I need you to know that. I never planned for it and I'm not entirely sure what it means. I have… I have theories, of course. But I won't really know until… Well, even then it won't be quite obvious. And there's so much planning to do. So much will have to change, at least until Voldemort's been defeated. And even then, with his followers still loose, we should be careful. But perhaps, after Halloween, then it will be clearer. But that's just speculation and—"

"Hermione." He bit his lip to hide his growing smile. "Love, you need to clue me in. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I…" Her chin shook. "I'm pregnant."

He stared at her for a beat and it was as if time stood still. They sat there, suspended in the infinite unknown of their situation. And then his gaze fell to her stomach. "You're…"

"Yes." She gripped the skirt of her dress and squeezed. "I realized on Friday. The spell came back positive all thirteen times—"

"Thirteen?" He let out a strangled laugh.

"I wanted to be sure." She frowned, even as her mouth quirked at the corners. "Don't make fun. I was overwhelmed and I thought maybe it was a false positive."

"Twelve times in a row?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So, it might've been slightly excessive…"

"Slightly," he mused, his hand reaching for her stomach and pausing just short of it. "Should I be proud it only took the one night?"

Scoffing, she swatted his shoulder. "You should be brushing up on your contraception spells."

He laughed lightly and pressed his hand down flat against her stomach. "You're what, six weeks along?"

"About that." She covered his hand with her own, thumb stroking along the knuckles of his fingers. "If my math is correct—"

"As if it ever couldn't be."

"—then he'll be born in July. Probably the end of it." Her mouth turned down. "My theory…"

"You think it could be Harry. Or some version of him," he realized. "Time correcting itself to make up for the void that him not being born would leave."

"It's a theory, it doesn't mean it's true… It could just as easily be a girl. Or a boy that looks nothing like my Harry…"

"But the timing of it makes you think it's likely." He stared up at her knowingly. "Would you prefer that? Not so much guilt if he still survived."

Hermione winced. "I feel terrible thinking it. If it's not, then I don't want to put that kind of pressure on them. I… I will love this baby regardless of who it is or who it becomes. It's still _ours_. It's still…"

James rubbed her arm soothingly.

"I was scared when all thirteen spells came back positive, but another part of me was… _hopeful_. For so long, I've never let myself truly imagine what my future would look like. Everything has always been about defeating Voldemort and fixing the future. But I had no idea what that would look like for me. My best friends would be, at best, _babies_. They would never see me as their friend. And I had you, but I didn't; I kept pushing you away. So, trying to envision a future wasn't easy. If I survived Voldemort at all, I had no idea what I would do with myself. And now…" She swallowed back her tears. "Now, no matter what happens, I'll be a mum and I'll have a family. Not the one I lost, but a new one. And I'm terrified. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't even know what kind of mum I'll make. I- I'm bossy and impatient and I've spent too long at war. I've lost so much that a part of me is scared to love anyone too much. But…" She shook her head. "But this is mine and yours and… And I want it so _desperately_."

Nodding, he pulled her in close, until they were chest to chest. He cradled her in his arms, kissing her forehead and her cheek and the corner of her mouth. "We can do this. You and me. A new mission. We'll leave Voldemort to Dumbledore and the Order. All right?" He stroked his fingers through her hair. "Maybe it is Harry and maybe it isn't. Whoever they are, they're ours. And they're going to live a long, happy laugh. And so are we." He stared at her seriously. "No more running away now. No more second-guessing it. It's you and me."

Hermione blinked back tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so difficult."

"You weren't."

Hermione sniffled. "Liar."

"You were occasionally difficult," he admitted, rolling his eyes.

She hiccupped a laugh. "I was a nightmare, just admit it."

James hummed. "We got here, didn't we? Just like I always knew we would."

"You're a regular seer," she scoffed.

He grinned. "I didn't see this one coming." He stroked his fingers over her stomach. "But I'm ready."

Hermione's gaze was utterly soft. "You don't seem nearly as scared as I was."

"It's earlier than I was expecting, but that doesn't mean I didn't have it all planned out in my head. I knew you were it from the beginning. Figured I'd convince you around to marrying me before a little prongslet came along, but here we are."

Hermione shook her head. "I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met… I tried not to, but you made it so _impossible_."

He scrunched his nose and nuzzled it against hers. "Part of my charm."

She laughed under her breath.

Outside, the sky suddenly lit with a burst of fireworks, one after the other, filling the view out their window.

James leaned in to press a sweet, soft, lingering kiss to her lips. "Happy New Year."

Happy indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. writing these two being fluffy and sweet and angsty has been fun for me, so i'm glad you're enjoying them. there is a third part in the works! i'll likely put up one or two other prompts before i get that one finished though. :)
> 
> thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!  
> ~ Lee | Fina


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